A/n- Ok, I wrote this story late at night, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was go to bed. So, it may turn out a LITTLE bad (cough cough...just a little?) I'll take flames, I don't care, just as long as you...dun dun dun...REVIEW. Yes, you see, if I don't get reviews, I keep writing my bad stories, and if I keep writing my bad stories, you keep reading them, and if you keep reading them...I dunno. Let's stop there!
Disclaimer-let me put it this way. I own nothing, and from the looks of it, I never will!
Azkaban...a word that sends most wizards into a state of intense fear. They instantly think of the evil that is hidden within the walls of the fortress...the dementors that guard the prisoners...it all flashes through their minds and they find themselves feeling cold and empty. Those who have returned from the island are severly shaken and weak; most are scared out of their wits. They find it impossible to think of anything but the sadness that had temporarily overtaken them. When I was younger, I used to think the exact same thing. But now, Azkaban is nothing more than a word to me. Why? For the simple reason that I am entombed within the walls of Azkaban.
I was brought into this Hell falsely. Those who claimed to fight for justice proved to be hipocrits when they handed me over to the dementors without a trial. They ruined any chance I had of defending myself and once again being free. Everything was ruined, as I will remain here forever. There is not a shred of proof to back up my claim, except perhaps my word, which isn't too convincing. The only other people who knew the truth are now dead, and I am believed to be the traitor who handed their lives over to Voldemort. But I would never do that. It used to sting me to believe that they could even accuse me of such a crime, when I vowed loyalty forever. In my early years here, I used to pray that someone would come running in screaming "Sirius Black is innocent! We have proof! You are free to go!" But that never happened. So, I began to pray that I would go insane like the rest did. But I didn't...and I was forced to relive James and Lily's death scene every day...and then to relive the scene in which my whole life would take a turn. The scene in which it became clear to me that my dreams would shatter. The scene in which my true destiny was decided and yet to be fulfilled...
I suppose it all starts on one morning in mid October...
"Sirius, I have something really important to ask you," James said to me, somewhat nervously.
"Ok, what is it?" I said, curoius.
"Ok, well, I need an answer immmediantly, so don't spend too much time thinking about it. I mean, we wouldn't want you to strain yourself, would we?"
"Get on with the question, James. I'm kinda busy."
"Geez...ok, well, I guess I should explain first. Dumbledore told us, Lily and I, that Voldemort is after us. He told us that our best bet on hiding from him was to use the Fidelius Charm. Anyway, the Fidelius Charm involves hiding a secret within a single living soul, and as long as that person stays quiet, Voldemort wouldn't be able to find us. So, I was thinking, if you would like to...would you like to be our Secret-Keeper?
I was shocked. I hadn't expected something life threathening to come from him, and as it had, I wasn't sure what to think. "Um...wow, James. That's not what I expected. I mean to say...well...of course I'll be your Secret-Keeper. I mean-"
But I never got to finish. James had started smiling and said, "I knew I could count on you Sirius."
If only he could...
A week went by, and I thought long and hard about what I had agreed to. It was a huge challenge, and my best friends lives were in danger, along with their 1-year-old son, Harry. I realized, one cool morning, that I couldn't handle something this difficult. I confronted James, and though he was upset about my decision, he agreed that it would be best to allow someone who wasn't so nervous about such a thing. I told James that it would be best to use Peter Pettigrew, another one ofour friends. I explained that he was such a poor wizard, why should anyone suspect that you use him for such an important task? James thought about it, and told me that it was in fact a brillant plan. The next day, James switched Secret-Keepers.
It was the day before Halloween. I had set up to check on Peter tonight. When it was finally night, I went to Peter's house. He was gone. And...there was no sign of struggle. I was surprised, but I was also curious. What could've possibly happened? Then, the cruel truth hit me. I dashed down the stairs and jumped onto my motorcycle. I flew to James and Lily's house...only to find ruins in the very spot where it should've been. How...what...how could this've happened? I started searching through the rubble, and I came upon James's body. He looked startled, and somewhat worried. I collapsed at his side and allowed tears to stream down my face. Then, I forced myself up and started to search for Lily. I found her about 10 minutes later. Her expression was somewhat blank, sort of lost. But, there was something peaceful in her eyes. I felt tears flooding my own eyes. "Dear God, what have I done?"
I heard a cry to my left. I looked over and saw a giant...Hagrid! And in his arms was a baby. The baby was wrapped in a very familiar looking blanket. And it hit me hard. Inside that blanket was...Harry Potter. I rushed over to Hagrid to find out what had happened. "Hagrid...how on earth did...did..?"
"How did 'Arry survive? I dunno, but I can tell ye this...he is one lucky un. I mean, he survived the curse from one of the most powerful wizard in this here world." Hagrid said, with a sad edge in his voice.
"Give him to me Hagrid; I am his godfather."
Hagrid looked taken aback. "Sorry, Sirius, but I'm under orders from Dumbledore to bring him right to him, no exceptions."
I argued the best I could, but Hagrid just wouldn't give in. So I gave up in the end. "Here, use my motorcycle to bring it to him. I won't be needing it anmore."
He looked a little shocked and curious but accepted it gladly.
However, I took off to find Peter. I knew that he was up to something. I searched and searched, and in 5 hours time, I had found him in a street full of muggles. They took no notice to the short, slightly jumpy man. I walked up to him. "Hello Peter. So, what exactly have you done tonight? Betray your friends?!?"
Peter must have jumped 10 feet into the air. He turned and looked at me. "He...hello Sirius."An odd dreamy expression crossed his face. He spoke again, with a louder voice than normal. "Sirius, how could you? Lily and James, Sirius!" Then he took out his wand and his it behind his back. He whispered, "Avada Kedevra." He heard the shrieks and straightened up. "Good bye Sirius." He began to shrink, but a distinctive smile was plastered on his face. It was a sickening site.
I was left in the middle of the street, whish now had a crater in it. People were screaming and bodies were everywhere. The spot in which Peter had once stood now was occupied by a bundle of robes with a few blood stain. In the heap, I noticed a finger sticking out. And it all made since. Peter had staged his own death to escape the punishment that he deserved. Instead, I would get them. I looked around at the bodies in which the Minisry would believe I had killed. I looked down at the blood-stained robes that once contianed Peter Pettigrew. Everyone believed I had murdered him, and the others that were dead. It made sense now...and there was no one around that could testify my innocence. Those who could were dead, and I was standing unharmed in the middle of a death scene. Suddenly, my whole life was gone. And what was I to do. I could in fact do nothing. I could only wait for my fate to come...
I started laughing. It was the only thing I could do. When ever I was nervous, I laughed. Scared, I laughed. When ever I was unsure of myself, I laughed. Right now, the only thing I could do was laugh. The street sort of muted as they looked at me. Moments later, the Minisrty of Magic appeared at the scene of the crime. About 10 wizards approached me cautiously, as though I was a bomb set to go off any minute. No need to, because I was laughing to hard to care what happened. In no time, I found myself in Azkaban. I pleaded with the Ministry for a trial, and they said they would think about it, but I never got an answer. Now...I live in Hell, or at least Hell in the mortal world.
The dementors outside my cell sturred sickly, and I felt a new wave of cold overtake me. It was under their influence that I was forced to think about these kind of things. Then, I saw why they were moving. The Minister of Magic was taking his yearly rounds. As he passed my cell, he paused and looked in at me. I noticed that the look on his face changed. It became, anger mixed with a sick look. The combination wasn't a good one. I knew that he was remembering the scene again. I nearly smiled. He deserved to be forced to relive it, even if it was just this once. It would be enough to haunt him for a few months. I was thinking about how much sick pleasure I got from this, but then something distracted me. In the minister's hand (Furge, Fudge, something like that) was a paper. He had just turned to leave when I stood up. I walked shakily to the door of my stall ad called, "Er...Minister."
The Minister turned sharply at being addressed, and then nearly fainted when he saw that it was I who was calling me. Wasn't he supposed to be...insane? "Y..yes?" he replied somewhat shakily.
I almost smirked to myself, but held it back. "Well, if you're donw with your paper, do you think it would be alright if I had it. It's been so long since I've done the crossword, and I do miss it." I sounded somewhat human, but oh well.
"Um...of course! I was just going to throw it away." He handed it to me through the bars and hurried away.
I looked at the date and began to calculate how long I'd been in here. 13 years, 2 months, and 11 days. I sighed. That's how much of my life has been spent in here, for something that I didn't even do. Then, I tried to calculate how old I was. I'm nearly 33 years old. I sighed sadly to myself. After I finished drowing in my own self pity, I thought about Harry, James and Lily's son. I doubted wheather he had ever heard of me. I was willing to bet that he knew nearly nothing about his parents, just that they had been murdered by Voldemort. I sighed one more time and turned back to my paper. When I looked at the picture on the frint page, I felt my breath get caught in my throat. On the cover...there was...there on that boys shoulder was...Peter. I read the caption and found out that the boy went to Hogwarts also. That's where Harry is! I ripped the picture out, not at all worried about the rest of the poster. I stuffed it in my pocket, and realized that I now had something to live for. There was only one thing worth living for. The person who had in fact, been the very reason I was here, and the person, whom I had promised to pretect if anything ever happened to Lily and James. The words I had said rung in my head: "James, if anything happens to you and Lily, I promise to protect and take care of Harry." Perhaps I couldn't take care of Harry, but I could protect him. Maybe...maybe that would comfort my torn apart soul. I doubted it, but it was worth a shot anyway.
Disclaimer-let me put it this way. I own nothing, and from the looks of it, I never will!
Azkaban...a word that sends most wizards into a state of intense fear. They instantly think of the evil that is hidden within the walls of the fortress...the dementors that guard the prisoners...it all flashes through their minds and they find themselves feeling cold and empty. Those who have returned from the island are severly shaken and weak; most are scared out of their wits. They find it impossible to think of anything but the sadness that had temporarily overtaken them. When I was younger, I used to think the exact same thing. But now, Azkaban is nothing more than a word to me. Why? For the simple reason that I am entombed within the walls of Azkaban.
I was brought into this Hell falsely. Those who claimed to fight for justice proved to be hipocrits when they handed me over to the dementors without a trial. They ruined any chance I had of defending myself and once again being free. Everything was ruined, as I will remain here forever. There is not a shred of proof to back up my claim, except perhaps my word, which isn't too convincing. The only other people who knew the truth are now dead, and I am believed to be the traitor who handed their lives over to Voldemort. But I would never do that. It used to sting me to believe that they could even accuse me of such a crime, when I vowed loyalty forever. In my early years here, I used to pray that someone would come running in screaming "Sirius Black is innocent! We have proof! You are free to go!" But that never happened. So, I began to pray that I would go insane like the rest did. But I didn't...and I was forced to relive James and Lily's death scene every day...and then to relive the scene in which my whole life would take a turn. The scene in which it became clear to me that my dreams would shatter. The scene in which my true destiny was decided and yet to be fulfilled...
I suppose it all starts on one morning in mid October...
"Sirius, I have something really important to ask you," James said to me, somewhat nervously.
"Ok, what is it?" I said, curoius.
"Ok, well, I need an answer immmediantly, so don't spend too much time thinking about it. I mean, we wouldn't want you to strain yourself, would we?"
"Get on with the question, James. I'm kinda busy."
"Geez...ok, well, I guess I should explain first. Dumbledore told us, Lily and I, that Voldemort is after us. He told us that our best bet on hiding from him was to use the Fidelius Charm. Anyway, the Fidelius Charm involves hiding a secret within a single living soul, and as long as that person stays quiet, Voldemort wouldn't be able to find us. So, I was thinking, if you would like to...would you like to be our Secret-Keeper?
I was shocked. I hadn't expected something life threathening to come from him, and as it had, I wasn't sure what to think. "Um...wow, James. That's not what I expected. I mean to say...well...of course I'll be your Secret-Keeper. I mean-"
But I never got to finish. James had started smiling and said, "I knew I could count on you Sirius."
If only he could...
A week went by, and I thought long and hard about what I had agreed to. It was a huge challenge, and my best friends lives were in danger, along with their 1-year-old son, Harry. I realized, one cool morning, that I couldn't handle something this difficult. I confronted James, and though he was upset about my decision, he agreed that it would be best to allow someone who wasn't so nervous about such a thing. I told James that it would be best to use Peter Pettigrew, another one ofour friends. I explained that he was such a poor wizard, why should anyone suspect that you use him for such an important task? James thought about it, and told me that it was in fact a brillant plan. The next day, James switched Secret-Keepers.
It was the day before Halloween. I had set up to check on Peter tonight. When it was finally night, I went to Peter's house. He was gone. And...there was no sign of struggle. I was surprised, but I was also curious. What could've possibly happened? Then, the cruel truth hit me. I dashed down the stairs and jumped onto my motorcycle. I flew to James and Lily's house...only to find ruins in the very spot where it should've been. How...what...how could this've happened? I started searching through the rubble, and I came upon James's body. He looked startled, and somewhat worried. I collapsed at his side and allowed tears to stream down my face. Then, I forced myself up and started to search for Lily. I found her about 10 minutes later. Her expression was somewhat blank, sort of lost. But, there was something peaceful in her eyes. I felt tears flooding my own eyes. "Dear God, what have I done?"
I heard a cry to my left. I looked over and saw a giant...Hagrid! And in his arms was a baby. The baby was wrapped in a very familiar looking blanket. And it hit me hard. Inside that blanket was...Harry Potter. I rushed over to Hagrid to find out what had happened. "Hagrid...how on earth did...did..?"
"How did 'Arry survive? I dunno, but I can tell ye this...he is one lucky un. I mean, he survived the curse from one of the most powerful wizard in this here world." Hagrid said, with a sad edge in his voice.
"Give him to me Hagrid; I am his godfather."
Hagrid looked taken aback. "Sorry, Sirius, but I'm under orders from Dumbledore to bring him right to him, no exceptions."
I argued the best I could, but Hagrid just wouldn't give in. So I gave up in the end. "Here, use my motorcycle to bring it to him. I won't be needing it anmore."
He looked a little shocked and curious but accepted it gladly.
However, I took off to find Peter. I knew that he was up to something. I searched and searched, and in 5 hours time, I had found him in a street full of muggles. They took no notice to the short, slightly jumpy man. I walked up to him. "Hello Peter. So, what exactly have you done tonight? Betray your friends?!?"
Peter must have jumped 10 feet into the air. He turned and looked at me. "He...hello Sirius."An odd dreamy expression crossed his face. He spoke again, with a louder voice than normal. "Sirius, how could you? Lily and James, Sirius!" Then he took out his wand and his it behind his back. He whispered, "Avada Kedevra." He heard the shrieks and straightened up. "Good bye Sirius." He began to shrink, but a distinctive smile was plastered on his face. It was a sickening site.
I was left in the middle of the street, whish now had a crater in it. People were screaming and bodies were everywhere. The spot in which Peter had once stood now was occupied by a bundle of robes with a few blood stain. In the heap, I noticed a finger sticking out. And it all made since. Peter had staged his own death to escape the punishment that he deserved. Instead, I would get them. I looked around at the bodies in which the Minisry would believe I had killed. I looked down at the blood-stained robes that once contianed Peter Pettigrew. Everyone believed I had murdered him, and the others that were dead. It made sense now...and there was no one around that could testify my innocence. Those who could were dead, and I was standing unharmed in the middle of a death scene. Suddenly, my whole life was gone. And what was I to do. I could in fact do nothing. I could only wait for my fate to come...
I started laughing. It was the only thing I could do. When ever I was nervous, I laughed. Scared, I laughed. When ever I was unsure of myself, I laughed. Right now, the only thing I could do was laugh. The street sort of muted as they looked at me. Moments later, the Minisrty of Magic appeared at the scene of the crime. About 10 wizards approached me cautiously, as though I was a bomb set to go off any minute. No need to, because I was laughing to hard to care what happened. In no time, I found myself in Azkaban. I pleaded with the Ministry for a trial, and they said they would think about it, but I never got an answer. Now...I live in Hell, or at least Hell in the mortal world.
The dementors outside my cell sturred sickly, and I felt a new wave of cold overtake me. It was under their influence that I was forced to think about these kind of things. Then, I saw why they were moving. The Minister of Magic was taking his yearly rounds. As he passed my cell, he paused and looked in at me. I noticed that the look on his face changed. It became, anger mixed with a sick look. The combination wasn't a good one. I knew that he was remembering the scene again. I nearly smiled. He deserved to be forced to relive it, even if it was just this once. It would be enough to haunt him for a few months. I was thinking about how much sick pleasure I got from this, but then something distracted me. In the minister's hand (Furge, Fudge, something like that) was a paper. He had just turned to leave when I stood up. I walked shakily to the door of my stall ad called, "Er...Minister."
The Minister turned sharply at being addressed, and then nearly fainted when he saw that it was I who was calling me. Wasn't he supposed to be...insane? "Y..yes?" he replied somewhat shakily.
I almost smirked to myself, but held it back. "Well, if you're donw with your paper, do you think it would be alright if I had it. It's been so long since I've done the crossword, and I do miss it." I sounded somewhat human, but oh well.
"Um...of course! I was just going to throw it away." He handed it to me through the bars and hurried away.
I looked at the date and began to calculate how long I'd been in here. 13 years, 2 months, and 11 days. I sighed. That's how much of my life has been spent in here, for something that I didn't even do. Then, I tried to calculate how old I was. I'm nearly 33 years old. I sighed sadly to myself. After I finished drowing in my own self pity, I thought about Harry, James and Lily's son. I doubted wheather he had ever heard of me. I was willing to bet that he knew nearly nothing about his parents, just that they had been murdered by Voldemort. I sighed one more time and turned back to my paper. When I looked at the picture on the frint page, I felt my breath get caught in my throat. On the cover...there was...there on that boys shoulder was...Peter. I read the caption and found out that the boy went to Hogwarts also. That's where Harry is! I ripped the picture out, not at all worried about the rest of the poster. I stuffed it in my pocket, and realized that I now had something to live for. There was only one thing worth living for. The person who had in fact, been the very reason I was here, and the person, whom I had promised to pretect if anything ever happened to Lily and James. The words I had said rung in my head: "James, if anything happens to you and Lily, I promise to protect and take care of Harry." Perhaps I couldn't take care of Harry, but I could protect him. Maybe...maybe that would comfort my torn apart soul. I doubted it, but it was worth a shot anyway.